by Sally C ©
Although I live in New Zealand now, I was brought up in Britain and enjoyed many of my more outrageous experiences there. The following happened when I was living in London, years ago. I'd been made redundant from the company I worked for (a client had sacked the agency and they laid all of us off), and I was desperate to earn some money. I ended up working in a stationery shop in the City.
It was owned by a friend of a friend who had other interests, and once he realised that I wasn't a complete idiot he was reasonably happy to disappear for large parts of the day and leave me in charge. He was an older bloke and a bit miserable, but I think he enjoyed having me around the place and there isn't too much you can do wrong selling notebooks to secretaries and pencils to schoolkids, after all (and it was that sort of boring old-fashioned place).
Anyway, I found myself there on my own more often than not, and as things were never exactly busy I had plenty of time to read the Situations Vacant columns and type out numerous letters of application on the demonstration typewriter (word processors were a bit advanced for the shop back then).
One morning I'd got out of the wrong side of bed then come in late from a problem on the tube and was met by my boss with 'at last - I've got to go.' He was usually friendlier than that - in London, nobody can ever guarantee to be on time - so maybe he was having a bad day too but it made me feel wretched. All I was doing was standing behind the counter in a grotty old stationers and I couldn't even do that right.
The day got worse. Customers - the few that there were - all seemed grumpy, a shoplifter took an expensive Filofax cover and I didn't notice until too late, and then trade seemed to die altogether. Worst of all, just after lunch the paper delivery arrived and the driver was a bolshie old devil who refused to do what every other driver did for me. Instead of taking the 50 or 60 boxes through to the store-room at the back on his little trolley, he just dumped them inside the door, thrust his clip-board under my nose for a signature and dashed off. Our own trolley had gone missing a couple of weeks before, so I was faced with moving all that lot on my own - and paper is heavy, I can tell you!
'Ah well, Sally, set to it' I groaned to myself. I was on box number eight or so, bending down awkwardly to pick up a box that had fallen off the pile into a particularly awkward place behind the pen & pencil stand when a voice startled me.
'I guess I'll always be an ass man,' it said. I had no idea there was anyone in the shop with me and I shot upright, banging my head on a shelf and tipping a whole lot of box files off on to the floor.
'What?' I yelled angrily, turning round.
'Gee, I'm sorry,' said the man in the door. He had a deep American voice, and was leaning terribly nonchalantly against the door post. He'd clearly been there for a little while. 'I didn't mean to startle you - I just said I guess I'll always be an ass man.'
After the day I'd had, I was immediately ready for a good blazing row. ' How dare you, you supercilious git!' I shouted. Not a good way to greet a rare customer.
'Look, I'm sorry - I just said what was in my head. I'm really, really sorry. Can I help you to pick those up?' He moved over to where the box files lay in a heap on the floor. 'Just get out - donkey fucker,' I yelled.. 'What,' he asked, understandably confused. I realised I'd used an old joke I'd had with an American friend at university. 'Donkey fucker! You said you were into asses. Over here, an ass is a donkey. What you were staring at was my arse!' I was being very rude to him, and the anger was pouring out of me.
'I'm sorry,' he said again, and this time he seemed to mean it. After a second or so he said hesitantly 'Look, can we start again. I only came in here for a couple of photocopies. I didn't mean to offend you - my big mouth. And I really didn't mean to frighten you. How's your head?'
I took several deep breaths. The mention of the photocopies reminded me where I was, and I came down a bit. 'You frightened the life out of me. And I've had a bad day. The last thing I needed was a shock like that.'
He apologised again, and I looked at him. He was a big guy, beefy in that American sort of way but not fat, and actually looked quite nice. He smiled a bit tentatively. 'OK, I'm sorry too,' I said. 'I shouldn't have yelled at my only customer of the afternoon.'
I organised the photocopying for him, which was actually quite complex - all sorts of double and single-sided bits which took ages to work out. Half of it was from books which had to be opened and flattened, and it ended up taking fifteen or twenty minutes. The stuff was all about acupuncture, and it turned out that despite his looks he was a teacher at an alternative healing centre in West London. We had quite an interesting talk about it all - a friend of mine was into all that kind of thing, and had talked enough to make me realise there was a bit more to it than New Age nonsense.
'What's with all these boxes?' the customer asked me as he was paying. I explained about the miserable delivery man and the missing trolley. He looked at me. 'If I help you move them, will you let me buy you a drink?' What an obvious chat-up line.
'If you move them all, you can fuck the 'ass' off me,' I said. It wasn't what I planned to say, but it came out and I knew subconsciously it was true. I had been angry and depressed and bored and that was always a recipe for my libido to come out and play. He looked understandably shocked, and I moderated it - 'Sorry -well, I'll make you a cup of coffee, anyway.'
He settled for that, and for the next forty minutes or so he toiled backwards and forwards to the store room at the back with its awkward narrow door and silly little staircase. It was hard work - those full boxes of paper are heavy. First his jacket came off, then his tie, then finally his sleeves were rolled up as the last fifteen boxes were carried through into their storage spot under the shelves. Finally it was done - and he looked very relieved.
'There was more there than I'd bargained for,' he admitted. 'Surely your boss guy wouldn't have expected you to do all that?' 'Let me put it this way - he wouldn't have expected to come in tomorrow and find no-one could get into the shop,' I replied.
'Whew,' he said. 'How about that coffee? My name's Chuck, by the way,' and he held out a large sweaty hand. 'Sally,' I said. 'You've earned it.'
We went back through to the store room and I put the kettle on. Over the coffee we talked more, and I got to like Chuck - despite his ridiculous stage-American name. He was over here on a kind of working holiday - the owner of the clinic was a friend of his - and he'd been travelling around England and Europe a fair bit. I asked him about some of the places, and over our second coffee we started talking about some of the places I'd been.
'Have you been to Santorini yet?' I asked. He said he hadn't. 'Hang on a minute - I was reading something about it in one of the old magazines yesterday.' I went over to the area where we kept the magazines to be returned and bent down to look for the one I wanted.
'There's that ass again,' sighed Chuck. I straightened and looked at him. 'Arse,' I said firmly. 'And isn't coffee enough for you?' 'I guess not,' he replied. I looked at my watch. We were five minutes away from closing time, and I knew we could go on from here for a drink, for a meal, and end up in bed together after an evening's seduction. On the other hand, I could do with a good fuck right now.
I walked through to the shop, hung up the closed sign and locked the door. Then I came back to the store room. 'Did you Yanks invent jeans just so you could gaze at women's bottoms?' I asked. 'I guess,' he said, spreading his hands helplessly.
I walked over to where his was sprawling in the tatty old armchair and stood right in front of him. 'Well, you'd better be as good at taking them off as you are at seeing through them.'
He undid the button and the zip fly from where he sat, then he stood up, towering above me. We kissed and his mouth was hard on mine, his tongue plunging into my mouth which was ready to receive it and match it with my own desire. His right hand dipped into my jeans, inside my panties, and I could feel him trying to force their way to my clit and my cleft but the material was too tight.
His hands moved to the waistband, thumbs hooked over and he pushed down, hard. I obediently swayed my hips to help the material pass, and the tight denim scraped over my thighs taking my pink panties with it. Chuck wasted no time. While my jeans were still around my knees he clasped his huge hand on my pubic mound and slid his fingers down to touch, yes please, my clit. I jerked as he made contact, broke for air, gasped, then our mouths locked again as his fingers wormed their way around my lips. I wasn't quite ready - this was a bit sudden, even for me, but he brought his hand to his mouth and coated his fingers with saliva. I could smell the dry heat of myself upon his fingers then they were back there, now lubricated, sliding smoothly, beautifully over the ridges and bumps of my pussy towards the entrance to my vagina. I felt a finger slip inside me and I gasped again, wanting it and wanting so much more.
My legs wouldn't open properly, still constricted by the clothes around my knees, but his finger was sliding back and forth and his other fingers were working on me, the ball of his thumb stoking my clitoris in time to his penetration. I felt the flood of my natural juices being released and knew there was no need for saliva now, my body was ready and when the time came I would take him inside me with ease.
He pulled back from our embrace, smiled and placed his hands on the top button of my blouse. Somehow this was a crucial moment, the point of no return, despite where his fingers had already been. I smiled back and found myself unbuttoned in seconds. I had no bra on so as soon as I shook my arms free of the sleeves and stepped out of the unwanted jeans I found myself naked in his arms.
Chuck undressed just as quickly, revealing seven inches of fleshy cock in need of a good home. I knew just the place.
'Let me see that ass,' he breathed. 'Not that way' I said, but he pushed me forward over the armchair so that I was bending at ninety degrees, my hands on the arms, while he ran his hands over the curves of my bottom, up over my hips, down the cleft then back out again. He stroked my backside again and again, his large meaty hands engulfing it, kneading the flesh. The hot rod of his erect penis pressed against the cleft between my cheeks, rubbing gently, but it was clear all his attention was on my body.
He took a step back and I missed the contact with his cock, but it was clear he wanted to look at me. 'I love the way a woman's body swells out to such a delicious ass,' he murmured, and his hands slid from my waist again, over my hips, following his words with action. He dropped to his knees and suddenly I could feel his mouth, his hot wet tongue on my backside. He was clearly loving kissing me there but it wasn't doing a lot for me - by now my pussy was aching to feel his touch. So after a few minutes I bent further, spread my legs and pushed my pussy back towards his flickering tongue. He made contact suddenly then his hands were there too, alternately stroking my bottom and sliding round to delve through my pubic hair to my clit, vagina and clit being stimulated simultaneously by tongue and hand.
Then he moved again, standing up suddenly and his cock was there. I had a moment's panic when I though he might want to take me anally, and I was about to say something then I felt his hardness sliding easily along my labia until it met his fingers and was suddenly pushed into me, bursting inside suddenly, expanding within me like a flower bursting into bloom.
Doggy-style isn't my favourite but there was a cock inside me and I wasn't about to let it go. I moved my feet as far apart as I could get them and arched my back to bring my pussy flat against his body to take as much of Chuck's cock inside me as I could. Oh, it felt so good in there, a fiery hot rod deep inside which matched my need and my passion.
Chuck bent over me, mouthing the back of my neck as my hair fell forwards over my face, and his hands coming under me to cup my breasts, fingers circling my tight nipples. His hips started to move and I felt the thrusts against me, driving his cock into me, pushing the walls of my tunnel apart to take his solid flesh. He set up a rhythm, pushing against me, pushing my head forward on to the cushion at the back of the chair, each thrust meeting the ultimate resistance of my head, his cock quivering against me.
He kept it up for a long long time and although it was very pleasurable I was hoping he wouldn't come that way because I knew I wouldn't. Then at last he slowed and I heard him sigh. 'Your beautiful ass,' he said. 'What would you like?'
'On the chair,' I gasped, and he withdrew and allowed me to settle myself sitting back on the chair, my legs over the edge, my pussy wet and red and open for him once more.
He slid into me with no resistance at all, my body opening easily to welcome back my new lover, but this time there was more and I felt the top of my vagina stretch as his full length penetrated me. God, how I love that sensation, when a man is so far inside me he can go no further and his body, his balls are crushed against my entrance with the desire to fill me up.
And I love being filled, feeling my pussy stretch to accommodate the divine invader, feeling the ripples of pleasure around the cock within me.
And now there was movement, the sliding of his flesh within mine, his beefy penis moving back and forth to share the sensation. I moved my hand and spread my lips for him, and the next time he slid up and into me there was his hot flesh against my labia, heightening the pleasure from the cock buried deep inside. He had had his pleasure taking me from behind but that was only the foreplay, this was the real thing for me as I crossed my legs behind him to drive him into me.
Now the pace was picking up. I was saying 'yes, yes, yes,' breathlessly as each thrust drove me back against the rough cord of the old armchair. Chuck's big hands were on the arms and he was almost doing press-ups, none of his weight on me as his hips jerked energetically to drive his flesh into mine. I could see my boobs jiggling with each thrust, no body pressing them down, and as the movements got faster they started to move in constant circular motion.
Above me Chuck was biting his lip. His eyes were closed as he savoured the sensations of our bodies, but mine were open and my mouth was too, whimpering with the pleasure of the approaching climax. For it was near now and I threw my head back and wailed with the ecstasy of it all, my eyes taking in dimly the grubby ceiling of the storeroom where I was being so beautifully fucked.
Then I was there, a great crashing wave of orgasm, a yell of relief, and the ceiling disappearing in a burst of stars and colours and flashes as I came and came and came. But it was Chuck's time too and before I had come down he was there and a great jerk crushed my head against the back of the chair as I felt gallons and gallons of cum pumping into me from his rigid cock. There was spurt after spurt after spurt, each one accompanied by a gargantuan thrust and a enormous cry in my ear. I was filled, filled with his cock and his cum and his lust and God, it felt so good and I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes.
Another thrust, two, three, then there was peace and we kissed tenderly. Chuck subsided to his knees and I went with him, his precious cock still safe within me, my body bent back across the chair, his head now nuzzling my breasts.
'That was so good,' I said at last. 'It felt like you needed it too.' 'You don't know how much,' he said, and he cried, gently, his tears trickling down on to my boobs. I stroked his hair and at last we were at peace together.
I never found out much more about Chuck. We swapped telephone numbers but he never called me and when I tried phoning him I just got number unobtainable, so I suppose he didn't want to be found. I've never forgotten our sudden rampant fuck, though, and I've had a soft spot for Americans ever since.
The next morning I was in early, prudently armed with a canister of air freshener from home. As I thought, the smell of our lust was still only too obvious, and I used a lot of the aerosol trying to clear it. I opened the windows wide too, and kept the shop door wedged open, all of which earned me a reprimand from the owner when he eventually turned up. I told him there had been a funny smell in the store and I wondered if we had mice or rats, but he only grunted and ignored it. I'm sure he never knew that his store room had been the scene of such an adventure.
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